you’re on your own journey of life, of self-discovery & self-growth. you’re going to make mistakes but you will learn from them. you will face hurdles but you will overcome them. you will get sad sometimes but it will soon be alright. your dreams may look like they’re on hold but you’re actually making progress. just keep going. it may seem like it’s pointless to, but just keep going anyway because despite all obstacles, you can succeed.

Okay but can we take a moment to talk about how truly traumatic Leorio’s past really is? Like, I know we all talk about how terrible the other three’s childhoods are:

Killua living with a physically and emotionally abusive family, Gon with his father abandoning him, Kurapika’s clan being killed.

But I think we tend to forget that Leorio had just as much of a tragic background as the others. He watched his friend die. Right before his very eyes.

And then that hard reality sets on him; he could have survived if they had money for medicine. It was an entirely curable sickness. But all he could do was watch as his friend collapsed. And let’s just think for a moment; Leorio lived in such an impoverished area, there were probably bound to be other people he knew who suffered from the same sickness or a different illness that could have been saved from that miraculous money antidote.

So Leorio could have seen far more death in the course of his childhood that we may not even know about.

This becomes even more of a pressing issue for Leorio, especially concerning Gon. Because seeing Gon just laying there, practically charred skin and bone wrapped up in medical tape, physically and emotionally kills Leorio. Not just because it’s Gon and he feels so connected and attached to Gon, but because it brings back those memories. Of when he couldn’t do anything but watch someone die. And he thinks “Not again. I will not stand by and watch someone die again. I will find some way to heal Gon. I will invest every single piece of fame, fortune and time to bring Gon back.”

And when Gon enters through that door in the middle of the election, Leorio is so happy; so overwhelmed to see Gon alive and well. He’s so, so ecstatic that for once,

the 150 patchwork characters above your instagram photos and below your profile picture; the 650 words you bled into your common app essay, baptized by midnight tears and shaky fingers on backlit keyboards; the 2 am text you sent your friend when she was sad, which read more like a love song than any top 50 hit; the scribbled words you placed among doodles and integrals on the back of your math test, the ones you almost hesitated to erase before you turned it in.

call it art –

that photo of your best friend laughing, even though it’s blurry and his left hand is out of frame; those pancakes, the ones the man at the other booth smirked at you for admiring before eating, laughing harshly before returning to his bitter coffee and significantly underappreciated waffles; the sunsets and sunrises that fill your photo stream, reminders that yesterday was beautiful and tomorrow might be too; the photo of yourself that you can’t decide if you quite like, but can’t delete either, your finger nervously hovering above it. post it.

call it music –

the laughter of your friends from the other room that makes you smile, even though you missed the joke; the sound of your turn signal clicking, melting into the patter of raindrops on the windshield’s glass; the whistle of the summer wind outside of your old bedroom, the one that promised fairytales and twisters in sleepless childhood nights; the rhythm of your shoes in the empty hallway, reverberating with the sound of your arrival.

Nonbinary people with unsupportive family members are so strong and valid! I admire them every day. It’s hard not to have your family behind you, but their lack of understanding, their disapproval, in no way diminishes the validity of your identity, and you still and always will deserve for that identity to be respected.